A Perfect Fit
by Bloodtoast
Summary: They’re two pieces of a puzzle. They do not have the same shape; they do not have the same design etched onto their surface. Individually, they are nothing alike... But together they're a perfect fit. / Dasey from Edwin's POV. Oneshot. /


**A Perfect Fit**

**A/N: **_First off, this is Dasey Must Happen; I just changed my Username… finally. I've been meaning to do that for awhile. Anyways, here's a fic I wrote at 3 in the morning. Enjoy!_

* * *

_I'm an observational, rational person. When I study something's behaviour, I can tell what its logical response would be to a certain situation. I can look at my research on a certain something, and know its likes and dislikes, know what it searches for in life and what it avoids, and know exactly what its life should turn out to be._

* * *

The house is quiet as I sit in the kitchen, tapping my fingers on the surface of the counter. The 'rents are gone for the weekend, and we were left to be fed to _them_ as pieces of meet.

The hum of the refrigerator is the only noise that accommodates me. The T.V. is off, music isn't playing – or I should say, "blasting"— and it's actually quite peaceful.

Do I trust it? Not one bit.

That's why I'm sitting here in the kitchen, waiting for something to happen. If I don't move, I'm less prone to sneak attacks by _them_.

I take a deep breath and glance at my watch. Two more minutes of this, and I'm calling the cops. They've probably murdered each other.

I hear thumping and I mentally sigh. Then I hear yapping, and Casey comes prancing down the stairs, talking on the phone, her mouth flapping a mile a minute. She doesn't even seem to notice me sitting here until she snatches up the mustard bottle in front of me to make her own sandwich.

I glance down, remembering the reason I had first come into the kitchen. Seeing a mortadella sandwich splattered with mustard, I smile and take a bite of it, watching Casey as she squirts some mustard into her weird-looking sandwich.

"I _know_!" she laughs into the phone. It's the 'Emily Laugh'. She uses it whenever they talk about boys, or shoes. Or both.

She turns and places the mustard back in front of me, not making eye contact. This means she's too distracted by what Emily's saying, or she's daydreaming about something.

She picks up her sandwich, but doesn't take a bite, then leans against the counter only after swiping the bread crumbs off of it.

"Yeah, I was surprised, too," she blabs, practically yelling. Then she lowers her voice into a whisper, but I can still hear her. "He's really cute. You think –?" Her voice is cut off by Emily blabbing something – really loudly – into her ear.

"Alright!" Casey laughs, waving her sandwich around. I watch a drop of mustard fly out and hit the cupboard, but Casey is, of course, oblivious to this.

"So you'll say yes?" That was Emily, speaking so loud I could hear her.

"Of course I will! It's been _too _long since I've started getting on the dating scene. I mean, Max shouldn't ruin my life _just _because we've gotten our closure." She walks away, her voice fading as she heads off to who-knows-where.

Derek comes plodding into the kitchen next, less elegantly then Casey but a lot quieter. He leans on the counter opposite of me and swipes my sandwich, ripping a bite off. He frowns at my choice of condiments and I can see his mind working.

"_Edwin, make me a salami sandwich. NOW."_

However, he shrugs it off and takes another bite, leaning on the counter with one hand.

"She's going on a date?" he asks. 'She' referring to the clueless brunette who just walked out a second ago. I nod my head and he takes another bite, looking to my right, at the fridge, with a far-off look in his eyes. I can see his mind working, again, probably thinking,

"_If Keener-Casey has a date, I need one, too."_ He smirks, and this is the part where he thinks, _"Then no-more-date for her, because she'll have to stay home and watch the Brats."_ Okay, maybe not in that wording, but something along the lines of that.

"Thanks for the sandwich," Derek says, smirking at me. Then he heads off to follow Casey, probably to swipe the phone from her.

Then, finally, civilized company joins me and her name so happens to be Lizzie McDonald. I stare at her, wording my thoughts in only a gaze. Lizzie smiles, and she gets the message.

This is going to be one Hell of a weekend.

* * *

_But all my research, all my planning, all my knowledge was put to shame once I started studying __them__._

* * *

It's 7:30 when Casey stomps down the stairs, looking flustered and red. She slumps down into thecouch, sending daggers at Derek's chair, even though he's not sitting there. She looks relatively calm, compared to the screaming-battle she and Derek endured five minutes ago.

I exhale and turn back to my T.V. show. She huffs, and I'm not sure what she wants. Should I talk to her? I send her a side-ways glance, feeling a nauseas, queasy feeling fill my gut.

"Why's your brother such a jerk?" she asks when she sees me looking at her. It's really bad when she starts complaining to me, so I lean forward on my knees and shrug.

"He was born that way," I reply, because that's what she wants to hear. I pass her the click and jump off the couch before she can ask me anymore questions.

I start climbing the stairs as Derek starts descending, and when I'm on one of the topmost stairs I spin on my heel and crouch to watch them.

"I'll be back whenever," Derek states as he shrugs into his leather jacket. Casey doesn't say anything. Heck, she doesn't even move. When I looked closer, I see wet stains on her cheeks. My eyes flash over to Derek, unsure if he's seen this calamity or not.

"Don't wait up," he states as he exits the house, slamming the door shut. I feel someone lean into my arm and I don't have to look to know Lizzie's there, watching as well.

Casey folds her knees, grabs a pillow, places it gently on her lap and lowers her head into it. That's when her shoulders start to shake and Lizzie inhales quickly.

"That's my cue," she whispers, and rushes down the stairs. I head to my room, mainly because there's going to be a lot of mushy girl talk and evil plots to destroy Derek, and then there'll be me, the guy who'll get stuck lugging out the big tub of ice cream Dad keeps in the basement freezer.

I only have peace for ten minutes before Marti clambers into my room, wielding an old, dusty jigsaw puzzle box. She plops it on my bed and stares at me. She's the only person I can't decipher, mainly because, well, she's _Marti_.

"Yes?" I finally ask, meeting her gaze cautiously.

"I found this in the game's closet and I wan'na play with everyone," she states. "Pleeeeeaaase," she adds as a second thought. I don't even bother arguing and grab the puzzle. We both head downstairs and I stop at the top of the staircase, listening for sobs. When all I hear is the T.V. weather station, I head down and clear my throat.

"Marti wants to play," I state, putting the box on the coffee table. Casey and Lizzie both look up, and I'm surprised to see a smile on Casey's face as she peers at Marti.

"Alright," Casey says. Then she gets down on the floor and starts arranging the pieces. Marti joins in immediately, while Lizzie makes up some excuse about getting snacks.

"Casey's date called," she said as she pulls out a big, transparent orange bowl. She reaches into another cupboard and pulls out a bag of popcorn. Then she shoves that into the microwave and turns to look at me.

"And?" I press. She smiles dimly, because she knows I'm going to add this to my research book later.

"He understood and rescheduled."

_That's why Casey was smiling._

"That's good," I state. The microwave beeps and she pulls the bag out, dumps the contents in and brings it back to the living room. I throw the bag out and head in after her.

We must've bothered with that puzzle for an hour before Derek stomped in, throwing his jacket on the floor and heading up to his room. He looked pissed, and after I heard his door slam I waited. And waited, yet not angry rock music started blaring from his room.

I sighed, put the two puzzle pieces I was _about _to connect down and walked up the stairs after him.

When I opened the door and walked in, Derek was sitting on his bed, his arms folded to dangle off his legs and looking at his wall.

"Edwin. Sit." Is all he says. Isn't he such a loving brother? I comply anyways, sitting in the computer chair, and stare at him, waiting for him to explain.

And waits.

And waits.

But he doesn't say anything, so I lean forward to peer at his face.

"Casey cried, you know," I say. Derek's gaze settles on me and he frowns.

"I know," he replies, then falls back on his bed. This whole scene reminds me of the Scott incident, but thankfully there's no head-tapping. That got annoying after awhile.

"That's why I'm back early," Derek states.

"Ah," I say, like I understand even though I don't. Derek turns his head to look at me with his brows furrowed and his teeth biting down on his lip.

"She's okay now, though," I say, because I know that's what he wants to hear, really. Derek scoffs lightly and fakes like he doesn't care, but I see the burden lift off his shoulders.

"The guy rescheduled," I add, and BAM, the burden is back. This, I do not understand.

"Fascinating," Derek whispers sarcastically. He lifts himself off his bed and points to the door. I get out of there as fast as I can, unsure how much I helped him, or what the reason to my visit was.

I head back downstairs to the voices of Casey and Lizzie.

"No, Liz, that piece doesn't fit in there." She lifts up the puzzle piece and I recognize the pink splotch on it as the one I had before. I sit back down in my old spot and see that the piece I was _going _to connect the other one with was on the floor.

"How about this one?"

"What? That one won't fit. It's a whole different colour," Casey replies, then reaches for another one and tries to squeeze it in. I raise my eyebrows at how easily she waves off the one that's _clearly _the right choice, but she stubbornly ignores it every time I edge it towards her.

Finally, I grab the piece from her, slam it on the table and shove the ignored piece into the pink one's slot. Casey looks on in interest, her eyebrows raised, as I lean back.

"Oh," is all she says, "Well look at that – a perfect fit."

* * *

_They're two pieces of a puzzle, really, to put it into metaphorical terms. They do not have the same shape; they do not have the same design etched onto their surface. Individually, they are nothing alike._

* * *

At 11:00 I'm back in Derek's room, yawning as he sits on his computer chair, staring at me again. He's trying to word something that he thinks means everything, when it probably won't mean anything. It'll probably be something perfectly normal.

"All I could think about was Casey," he says, and I peer at him from where I'm hanging upside-down on his bed. See? Perfectly normal.

"Uh-huh," Is all I say, though.

"'Cause I kept thinking, 'she's supposed to be here.'" I perk my ears up at his wording, but then he says, "It was _her_ night to have fun."

"Yup," I agree.

"But I… didn't… want… her to go… on a date," he chokes out. I roll over on my belly and look at him.

"Why?"

"I don't know," he sighs, scratching his head tiredly. He waves his hand, shooing me – again. "Now go. I need to think."

"That's a first," I say as I head out, narrowly avoiding a thrown CD case.

I was in my bedroom, half asleep, when I heard voice – very faint voices – coming from downstairs. I looked at my clock before I headed down the attic stairs – 12:54 – and when I see a light from downstairs in the living room, I plop down on the steps and watch Derek watch Casey watching T.V. Lots of watching going on.

Finally, Derek steps forward with his ice cream sandwich, plopping down on his recliner. Casey ignored him, still, as she flips through the channels. Neither of them will admit they're up because of the other, but I know.

"Casey," Derek states, grabbing the click from her hand and throwing it on the coffee table. He shifts in his seat as Casey's eyes fall on him.

"I… um…," he starts, but Casey huffs _again_ and rolls her eyes.

"How was your _date_?" She spits out.

"Meh," Derek replies, taking a bite from his ice cream sandwich. Casey watches, her lip curling.

"I had a lousy time," Derek said, and I almost choke out how easily he was willing to admit that.

"You deserve it," Casey snaps. She looks like she wants to walk away, but Derek lifts himself from his recliner and plops down on the couch next to her, halting her movements by putting a hand on her arm.

"I umm… wanted to say… sorry." Okay, I nearly fainted. Or died. Or both. Derek does _not _do apologies. I found myself leaning so far forward I almost tumbled head-first down the stairs. That would ruin their moment for sure.

Casey's eyes brighten and her brows rise. Obviously she's not expecting this.

"Edwin advised me to do it, since he said you were crying." I roll my eyes at his lie, but when I look back I know Casey knows the truth.

"Well, then tell Edwin 'thank you'." Derek shifts uncomfortably and I notice his ice cream melted into his hand. He throws it onto the coffee table, wiping his hand on his pants as he faces Casey.

"So, who's the guy?" he asks. Casey bites her lip and looks away, towards the T.V.

"Noel."

"Noel?" Derek repeats. He looks down at his lap, than back up at Casey, than he mumbles something that probably went like,

"_I don't want you to date Noel." _

Casey leans forward, asking for a repeat, and he mumbles it again. Then she reels back and her eyes flash dangerously.

"Why? Is it so you can –," her angered sentence is cut short when Derek's leans forward and kisses her. It's not a heavy kiss, just a light one that lasts little over "One Mississippi."

It defiantly shut Casey up, though. Derek stands and I take that as the sign he's coming upstairs, too. As I sneak back up to my room I heard Derek say, "_That's _why." Then I hear his stomping up the stairs just as I close my bedroom door.

* * *

_But they fit perfectly together._

_Other puzzle pieces have tried to cram themselves into the nooks that need filling, but no matter how hard you hammer them in there, they will not fit as well as these two do. Where one piece dips in, the other swoops out and vice versa._

_They __are__ a perfect fit._

* * *

The next morning as I wandered down into the kitchen, the first thing I heard was Casey's voice, and the first thing I smelt were pancakes baking. I stopped just outside the doors of the kitchen, listening to her phone conversation.

"Noel? Sorry, but I'm going to have to cancel those plans…" After that, all I could do was smirk.


End file.
